


Do you find me scary now?

by ActiveAgression



Series: Soulmate's Thoughts Universe [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Gavin being an idiot, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:50:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActiveAgression/pseuds/ActiveAgression
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the world where your soulmate's thoughts write themselves over your skin;</p><p>[He doesn’t need to wash blood and grime off his hands today but he does so anyway because he does it every day, in a mostly denial driven act of checking on his soulmark.</p><p>It’s still there, which is expected but nice.</p><p>It’s about him now though, which is unexpected and Ryan wonders how many people he could’ve proximised to in a city like Los Santos since last he checked. Some quick maths gives him a number in the thousands.  </p><p>‘I’d fuck him with the mask on,’ however narrows that number down dramatically to the most likely option being Ray, their new sniper. Somehow he believes ‘headshot’ is still about video games.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you find me scary now?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [haywoodyablowme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haywoodyablowme/gifts).



> Written for 'haywoodyablowme' [which is such a great name that it made me laugh for way too long], who requested 'more content from you with this soulmate concept but maybe something with this concept in the fake ah crew universe'. 
> 
> Sorry it took so long... i'm bad at sticking with one thing at a time.
> 
> But, here you are... all the rest of you guys too!
> 
> To clarify once more, this is part of a series but the stories are not connected by anything other then the soulmate concept itself.

Los Santos is a dangerous city for anyone to live in and most who have any options don’t. But not everyone has options; 

Ryan’s neighbor to the left can only find employment here, in this crap hole of a city and the one on the right stays because his soulmate has a job here - not that Gavin would leave if Michael didn’t; he’s as deep in the criminal world as Ryan is, as Michael is, as the entirety of the AH crew is. 

Lord knows why though.

“Can someone - really anyone - tell me what his purpose is here?” Jack bellows through the comm in an unexpectedly angered tone. No one needs to ask who he’s talking about.

“Wha- i’m good at my job you wanker!” Gavin wails back and Ryan can see the affronted expression curling his face from metres away. The problem being that he definitely shouldn’t be able to.

“Gavin… you’re on the wrong side.”

“What? Talk sense!”

“You’ve got your back to the enemy and are currently firing at us,” Ryan clarifies, and watches, amused as Gavin’s golden hair whirls around and then he’s stumbling and tripping back to the right side, falling into cover.

“Accidents happen,” he snuffs and Jack snorts.

“You might be good at hacking Gavin but out here, you are worse than worthless. You actively hinder the entire operation. Please Geoff, we can’t take him out anymore.”

“But we also can’t go on heists with only three people either,” Geoff reminds them, “and we can’t replace him with Michael because Michael’s got his own job.”

As if to prove his busy schedule, a powerful explosion rocks the street below them and a cop car jumps almost a full metre into the air. 

“So hire someone new.” 

“I - no,” Geoff responds, aggressively shooting from his tiny spot of cover. “You know what happened last time.”

“Yes, last time we got Gavin,” Jack snarls, ignoring Gavin’s offended “hey.”

“We need someone,” Ryan argues, “we need a sniper.” 

“...Fine” 

“I know a guy…” Michael starts and trails off as two cop cars collapse into rubble. “Maybe i’ll bring it up later.”

  
  


Ryan stands in his dingy bathroom, washing his hands of grime and blood. He tries valiantly to ignore the thoughts tattooed into the pale skin of his wrist and fails. 

‘Headshot,’ they proclaim and he snorts at his soulmate’s common area of thought - video games. When they’d shown up, a little late, (at age 20, landing him in the two percenters but not for long) they’d been obsessed with Halo and GTA and ‘Michael bailing on game night yet again to spend time with his soulmate’. The mark had been particularly upset about that one.

At thirty nothing’s really changed.

  
  


Someone in Ryan’s building got shot in her apartment and the only reason Ryan finds out is because the landlord calls an apartment meeting to talk about safety and locking doors and how this incident wouldn’t cause a drop in rent. 

Some people look horrified and Ryan appraises the room silently, weeding out the fakers from the real honest emotion. 

Three seem honest, six are faking - Gavin’s probably at the Penthouse with Michael - and a kid Ryan has never seen before is fixed entirely in a Nintendo DS, seemingly deaf to the world around him. 

He doesn’t even look up when the landlord points to him and addresses everyone else gathered in the dingy space, “this here is the new tenant in Miss Garcia’s old place. His name is… uh… well… meeting over everyone!” 

The new tenant is [small and intriguing] living in a dead woman’s apartment. She’s only been dead for a day, Los Santos moves quick and this kid wouldn’t last too long in it looking as he does. 

Ryan likes him right away. 

 

Ryan likes the kid from his apartment a little bit less when he appears in the Fake AH crew headquarters with a weed emblazoned backpack slung over one shoulder and a pink sniper rifle strapped to the other. (And really, how does random chance put three criminals from the same organisation (Ryan’s presumes, unless the kid’s actually here to murder them all) in the same run-down, shithole of a apartment?)

“Yo,” he greets, shaking the bag off and rifling through what appears to be mountains of condoms of all colours and flavours. Ryan raises an eyebrow at the display, lifting it higher when a rainbow coloured glass dildo falls from the side and the kid doesn’t bother to pick it up. He knows the gesture isn’t visible to the kid from behind his skull mask but hopes his silence gets across his message. 

Apparently it does because the kid turns to flash him a grin. “No cop is gonna check further than base layer after they see this treasure pile.” Which Ryan slightly hates because though it’s [smart], the kid is smart in the most obnoxious way. 

With that he hefts out yet another sniper rifle, this time not pink, and Ryan notices red letters curving around a slim wrist. 

He squints and can make out, ‘he's smart.’ 

Cute kid who lives nearby to him has his soulmate then, disappointing. 

“Could you like tell boss man i’m here?” 

“Boss man? What makes you think i’m not ‘boss man’?” he counters, actively deepening his voice to Mad King level, and this time when the grin is pointed at him it’s feral and dangerous. 

“I want Geoff. You are not Geoff, you are Vagabond; the Mad King. Mask gives it away” he is told and Ryan feels the inexplicable urge to [kiss] those snarky, intelligent lips until they’re [red and panting] and [moaning] his name.

Instead he shifts his weight to one leg and gives the kid an obvious once over. 

“I didn’t realise Geoff’s recruiting teenagers,” he comments and gets a half baked glare in return. 

“Twenty-one actually.” 

Without permission, “good” slips from his lips and he’s grateful for his mask as it covers his blush and mortification well so he can treat the words like he’d meant to say them. 

The kid loses all premise of control, eyes wide and interested, “Ray,” he announces to the room and gestures a thumb towards his chest. 

 

“Ray,” Geoff announces to the room again as he steps through the door suddenly, “i see you’ve met Vagabond.” 

‘Ray’ nods and everyone else shuffles through the door after Geoff. 

Michael and Gavin are stupidly holding hands and ‘idiot’ is plastered on Gavin’s forehead in Michael’s rough block letters. Gavin’s mark placement almost always makes Ryan’s day. 

Geoff steps up beside Ray and regards the dildo still on the floor with amused curiosity, “everybody, this is Gavin’s replacement; Ray. He’s our new sniper.”

“Fascinating,” Michael deadpans and leaves with Gavin as quickly as they came. 

“Good meeting Geoff!” Gavin calls as they go. 

 

When Ryan arrives home, he has a handful of condoms in his pocket that Ray insisted he took with him. Ryan still doesn’t know why he obliged, being average sized they’d never fit him anyway. It’d be like trying to fit a cucumber into a pencil sharpener... and Ryan’s never been the best with metaphors. 

He doesn’t need to wash blood and grime off his hands today but he does so anyway because he does it every day, in a mostly denial driven act of checking on his soulmark. 

It’s still there, which is expected but nice. 

It’s about him now though, which is unexpected and Ryan wonders how many people he could’ve proximised to in a city like Los Santos since last he checked. Some quick maths gives him a number in the thousands.  

‘I’d fuck him with the mask on,’ however narrows that number down dramatically to the most likely option being Ray, their new sniper. Somehow he believes ‘headshot’ is still about video games. 

  
  


He’s back at the Fake AH crew penthouse headquarters, staring blankly down the hallway and wondering where everyone is when a [tousled] head of dark hair appears from one of the hallways. Ray’s facing away from him and when he does turn, he jumps back into the shadow beyond the door before peering back around again. 

“Vagabond,” he says after a moment's hesitation, like he’d just realised he doesn’t actually know Ryan’s name, which he does - just doesn’t connect his neighbour - who’s listed as working down at a bakery near the centre of the city, should a background check occur - to the skull wearing psychopath he now works with. 

Ryan considers not replying, walking away and forgetting that this small teenage looking boy is his soulmate but now he knows, every slight twinge from his arm reminds him and that would never be an option for him. He also considers giving ‘the nod’ but he feels that would undermine his visage completely, so he finally settles on shifting his weight, cocking his head slightly and giving Ray a slow and obvious once over - just in case Ray wasn’t sure Ryan’s interested from their last conversation. 

“I know where you live,” he finally comments and watches Ray’s brow furrow.

“You follow me home or something?” Ray asks, obviously wary despite his attempts to look casual. 

“Or something.” 

Ryan walks further into the hallway, stopping before Ray and peering into the room over his head. It’s the conference room and he can see the others already settled in there; Geoff with a mug of coffee and lazy eyes, Jack jotting down marks onto a map of the city, Michael pretending to listen while his fantasies play out in remarkable detail over Gavin’s forehead. 

 

Gavin’s still in his pajamas and already whining about how they aren’t letting him go on this mission. 

“Vagabond’s late,” he complains, “i’m not late. Why am i the one being booted off the island?” 

Ryan pushes past Ray, nonchalant in the rough brush of contact, like it doesn’t make his breath hitch.  

“Because,” he starts, thumping his hands down on the back of Gavin’s chair while the other stiffens in fear, not daring to turn around, “i can literally cut people in half... Can you do that?”

He feels his wrist twinge, probably Ray reacting to that particular comment and Gavin gulps audibly. 

“Uh.. no,” he whispers. 

“I think that speaks for itself then, don’t you think?” 

“Yeah,” Gavin agrees, shaking like a leaf where his shoulders are pressed against Ryan’s gloved fingertips. 

“Okay great,” Geoff interrupts, lazily gesturing over the table with his half drained coffee cup, “now here’s the plan…” 

  
  


Ryan’s washing his hands again, watching his words - waiting for a change from, ‘scary’. He’s been waiting so long, his hands have started pruning up unattractively but he can’t stop looking. He can’t bring himself to look away because… Ray finds him scary - or rather, his [soulmate thinks he’s scary.] 

His soulmate not only thinks he’s scary, but is right about him being scary… and he’s justified. 

Ryan hadn’t really thought about Ray when he’d been unleashed upon Los Santos. He hadn’t considered that Ray, up in his eagle view nest, could see everything Ryan did. Ryan hadn’t thought about it until he’d returned home and his wrist was streaked with wavering lines spelling out ‘scary’ and something in his chest had jumped a little, then something in his gut had dropped away - so far away that it’s having trouble getting back. 

Even the words themselves looked unsure, barely there touches to his skin, like Ray’s soul - mind… whatever - had been scared to lay a hand on him, to lay words on him. They’re so feather light that Ryan fears if he does move, maybe they’ll go away forever and never come back. 

He wouldn’t blame them really, not after what Ray had no doubt watched him do. 

The thing is, and it’s going to sound bad, sort of horrible but; he didn’t mean to take the guy’s head off. Not at all. 

He hadn’t minded that he had exactly, it achieved the same result, but Ray must’ve been five shades of pale and horrified. 

Ryan had been aiming for slitting the guy’s throat really, with this beautiful hunting knife he’d taken care to sharpen the night before, and the quick slash he’d intended had misfired a little. 

The knife had slid through flesh like water, slippery and it just kept going and Ryan’s never been all that restrained with his strength - could’ve slit the guy’s throat even with the bluntest blade possible - so when he’d pulled to the right, the knife slipped through skin and muscle and fucking bone like it didn’t exist and when the body had fell in a motion resembling the crumpling of paper, the head tumbled off - away. 

It was a little gross for Ryan. A lot gross, horrifying for Ray. 

Ryan finds that he’s not okay with his soulmate being scared of him. 

  
  


He addresses it the next day, somehow alone in the penthouse on a stroke of luck and Gavin whining about wanting chicken nuggets - Michael always obliges, always makes Geoff come along to pay and where else would Jack be but by Geoff’s side. 

Ray’s playing something aggressive and violent on the Xbox that Ryan can’t identify, but he likes watching Ray’s perfect focus - the way his legs fold up underneath him on the couch, the arch of his back as he leans forward.

‘Fuck it,’ Ryan thinks from his position in the doorway, entering the room fully to come to a stop by the tv. 

“You’re scared of me,” Ryan states, not a question and Ray furrows his brow, pauses the game almost automatically and looks across at Ryan. 

“I’m not,” he says, not hesitant or unsure, but certain. “You’re a scary guy, but i’m not scared of you.”

There’s something whispering in his voice, something soft and hiding. 

 

Ryan watches him, thinking of those little words that hovered over his skin. ‘Scary.’ 

They said ‘scary’ and Ray may be able to lie to him, but those words can’t. 

“You are though,” Ryan insists, trying to keep his tone, his posture, everything, casual. So casual, like it doesn’t really matter. 

“I’m not,” Ray says again, resolute and firm and Ryan grinds his teeth, bites down hard and metallic blood washes dilute through his mouth.

“I know you are.”

“Well that’s funny,” Ray says, smiling and half laughing as if he actually finds some part of this funny, “because i know i’m not... Look, is this some ego thing? Do you question everyone? Cause i get it man, you’re scary - you’re terrifying. God, you literally cut some guy’s head clean off and that’s real scary… but truly, and i’m not gonna lie to you; I’m not afraid of you.” 

Ryan stills in his anger as he registers the tone that had been hidden within Ray’s words, now exposed for him to see - to fucking marvel at; because, shit, the kid’s not afraid of him. There’s something akin to awe smouldering through his voice, like Ryan being scary is one of the best things he’s ever seen and Ryan understands suddenly. 

Those words weren’t so much afraid of him, scared to belong on his skin - they were hesitant to touch out of some misguided worship of his being. Ray’s words were [wonderstruck], in the same way you hesitate to really, actually touch famous people. Ray thinks him being scary is a thing to marvel at. 

Ryan finds himself staring at Ray, taking in the chapped lips - the glasses perched on top of his head - the slight squint - and the lingering awe. 

Ryan shrugs. “Okay,” he says, like that expression isn’t doing sinful things to him, like he isn’t trying to contain his boner and contain his need to touch Ray, the need to lift him up high for the world to see because this [beautiful, wonderful, surprising, soft] kid - this soulmate - Ryan’s soulmate - is the sun suddenly, shining over the moon and reflecting down in pale light skin and dark shadows of hair and [eyes]. 

Ryan ropes those urges away, locks them tightly in a familiar but secure place, so he can visit. 

He takes on more long lingering look at Ray and leaves. He can hear the tv start back up as he walks away. 

  
  


It’s another week before Ryan works up the nerve to try, try to explain soulmates -no, but try to seduce -totally. 

He spends extra time making sure his hair’s soft, gel-less and leaves his usual black raccoon eye makeup off, knowing it looks a little stupid on it’s own - he considers doing full warpaint, but rationalises that if he shows his face to Ray at all, it’s going to be him and not the rage and wrath of The Mad King. 

For the first time, Ryan’s nervous. He’s never really shown his face to someone who knows before, no one still alive anyway… But Ray’s his soulmate and it’s not like Ryan doesn’t realise he’s really fucking pretty but what if that ruins his image? What if Ray takes one look at him, and decides he’s not all that scary anymore - not something to be marvelled at. 

Ryan knows he has to try regardless, for the sake of his sanity, for the sake of his dick maybe too. 

He makes it through the lobby, the elevator - finds Michael and Gavin making out on the couch when he comes in, tries to ignore the little hitches in Gavin’s voice and definitely ignores the obvious twist in Michael’s wrist as he works Gavin over through his open pants. 

He also ignores the open door to Geoff’s room where the man himself is engrossed in a laptop screen where loud, messy porn plays through. 

‘Jesus,’ Ryan thinks, ‘what is this? Sex central?” 

But then he’s outside Ray’s door, and he’s finding it a little hard to breathe and he knows if he hesitates he’ll end up walking away so he pushes the door open furiously, shouldering in with determination. 

 

“Look,” Ryan starts as he enters the room and Ray’s head snaps up so fast, Ryan would worry about whiplash if he weren’t so transfixed by the amount of naked skin, and the sweat slick muscles, and the stilled, halting, shivery fingers still barely brushing [the flushed red head] of Ray’s… 

Ray squeaks a bit but smothers it quickly, drawing a blanket over his lap with a practiced air of apathy. 

“Yes?” he asks, as dignified as someone can be when caught masturbating - pink cheeks, pupils blown wide and small little pants escaping still from his heaving chest.

Ryan tries to remain coherent, “actually, this is kind of a good lead up to what i was going to say,” Ryan says brightly and Ray’s face drops a little. 

He adjusts his blanket and sighs, “...Vagabond, i know we’ve been flirting… well - i think we have. The mask is a little - well - it makes it hard to tell but, see the thing is, when i first came here it would definitely be a yes… Hell, it’d be a yes please with strawberry flavoured lube and fudge on top, and it’d be a ‘fuck me everywhere’ sort of thing but… i - well, i proxed and i just... can’t now.” Ray pauses to take a breath, to catch Ryan’s eye with a [pleading] sort of look in his own. 

“I mean, you’re hot - beyond hot and god, the way you move when you kill is like an instant turn on but i really can’t. You get it?” he asks, apologetic and fisting his hands in his blanket automatically, twisting it a little to reveal [sharp] hipbones to Ryan’s gaze and whisk them away just as quick. 

 

Ryan stares for a bit, outraged a little that he’s essentially cock blocking himself but nods.

“I get it,” he mutters, “it’s just.... well, it’s this-” 

And, the moment he’d been anticipating, prepared for. He pulls his mask off, lifting from the bottom and pulling it up, up, up until it’s gone and he shakes his hair out a little, knowing when the strands fall into his face like they are, it’s a devilish sort of attractive… an irresistible sort of attractive hopefully. 

He’s still a little conscious of it though, head tilted down just slightly - watching Ray’s mouth fall open from under his lashes. 

“Fuck,” Ray swears, eyes flashing around his face - unhappy settling until they stop on Ryan’s lips. Ryan bites down hard enough for his lip to redden, for good measure, for the sole purpose of seducing Ray away from his ideas of soulmates and god, he’s trying to steal Ray from himself… and it’s working. 

Ray’s eyes have gone wide, watching him - seeing him and he’s tense, so tense where he sits. 

“Fuck,” he swears again, rubbing a hand over his face. “Well,” he murmurs, getting up, “when you put it that way…” 

 

Ryan barely has time to process that when he finds himself with an armful of sniper, clinging and hard and - fuck, naked - and Ray licks up his neck slowly, and pulls him down to connect their mouths in a filthy, wet, open kiss - the hot slide of tongues along one another and Ray’s moaning into the kiss, grinding his bare cock into the material on Ryan’s thigh. 

His hands are scrabbling with the zipper of Ryan’s jacket, trying to feel Ryan rather than underarmor and really he’d be doing quite well if Ryan’s palm wasn’t sliding over his rear distractingly, the other hand fisted in Ray’s mess of hair. 

As it is though, Ray whines into the kiss and breaks it to yank the zipper down harshly and then their mouths are clashing once more and maybe it’s the soulmates thing, or maybe it’s just a Ray thing but just them kissing is the best thing Ryan’s ever experienced. The warm press of hands shoving his jacket off only make things better. 

 

Then Ray leans back, Ryan realises he’s lifted him fully off the ground with one hand braced under his arse and leans back himself a little to make up for the offset of balance. Ray presses a hand to his chest and squints at him. 

“I recognise you,” he mumbles, like he’s not sure from where and Ryan grins at him, leaning back in to press kisses to his chest and neck and really anywhere in reach. 

“Tell me when you figure it out…”

  
  
  


Ray gasps suddenly from beside him and Ryan rolls, alert and armed within moments. 

Nothing appears wrong and Ray raises an eyebrow at the sharp glint of knife. True to his word, he doesn’t look scared. 

“Where… did you get  **that** ?” 

Ryan looks at the knife too and shrugs, “trade secret.” It’s mysterious sounding, and vague enough that Ryan doesn’t have to explain that he doesn’t really know where it had come from. 

Ray scowls at him but smiles suddenly, “you’re my neighbour,” he announces and Ryan lets the knife drop off the side of the bed, collapsing down into the mattress himself. 

“Top marks,” he grades and knows Ray’s grinning at him through the blur of his peripherals. 

 

Then suddenly he rolls over onto Ryan, “so… this is pretty much a one time thing,” he tells him and Ryan arches an eyebrow. 

“Unacceptable.” 

Ray sighs, pressing his face into Ryan’s chest, “i’ve proxed and from the looks of it - you too, so you know we can’t do this again.” 

Ryan stares at the dark top of Ray’s head and huffs, wrapping his arms around the smaller body and squishing him into a hug. 

“Idiot,” he says fondly and Ray squirms against him, sitting up. 

“I’m serious,” he says, firmly. 

“Yet still an idiot,” Ryan snarks, rubbing a thumb over the red words - his words, thoughts - around Ray’s wrist, “who do  **you** think is thinking this right now?” 

 

Ray twists his wrist to look, and glances unsurely back up at Ryan, but the words make it pretty obvious. 

‘Bruised up, marked up, mine,’ they say, the most poetic Ryan gets and Ray’s looking down at the purpled areas gracing his skin, his chest and his stomach and neck and shoulders and Ryan can’t see them but knows there’s ones over his thighs as well. 

“You?” 

“Yeah.” 

Ray’s face remains blank for a moment more, then it breaks into a wide grin. 

“Sweet,” he cheers, like there aren’t a whole bunch more questions to ask like, “why didn’t you tell me?” or “when were you planning on telling me?” or “when did you find out?” all of which Ryan’s prepared answers to. Ray just collapses down on Ryan with a little thump and hums contently. 

Ryan can’t help but glance at his wrist anyway, just to see if the questions are there, but instead finds, ‘scary’ written once more and this time it doesn’t settle like lead in his stomach - this time it’s something warm and comfortable and perfect really. 

 

“You’re scary too,” he assures, patting Ray’s back heartily and getting swatted in return. 

“Fuck… you,” Ray groans, “not all of us are beasts… … … Really, you’re OP as fuck.”

Ryan doesn’t answer, pretty sure Ray’s not finished. He’s right. 

“And i’m gonna be sore for days… Why’d you even take the condoms man? I mean fuck, i expected big but not  **that** big…”

Ryan just hums, not really sure how to respond. 

“And it’s not just the size, i mean - you really know how to - uh - use it? too…”

“Seriously though-” 

 

“Ray, shut the fuck up,” Ryan interrupts warmly and with a little smile that Ray doesn’t see but knows is there anyway. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Comment, kudos, whatever the fuck you kids do these days...
> 
> Extra points for those that figured out the words with [ ] around them are the things Ryan thinks that end up on Ray. 
> 
> Hope you liked!


End file.
